


Snowmelt

by soaringslash



Category: BlazBlue
Genre: Exhaustion, First few chapters are gonna be purely platonic, M/M, Nightmares, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, Whump, if youre just out here for some sibling bonding, injuries, when it actually gets shippy ill let you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soaringslash/pseuds/soaringslash
Summary: Ragna doesn’t know how to read Jin anymore, can’t find the tells of dishonesty he used to know by heart. It doesn’t matter, though. Even if Jin is telling the truth - which he isn’t, Ragna is certain, because the worry in Jin’s eyes is so normal and sane andfake- he’s painfully aware that Jin’s definition of “help” is drastically different from his own.
Relationships: Jin Kisaragi & Ragna the Bloodedge, Jin Kisaragi/Ragna the Bloodedge (BlazBlue)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Against all odds, Jin stops. The ground is slick with ice and frost dusts his gloves, but Ragna knows he could keep going if he wanted to. He’s seen Jin keep fighting even as his hand froze to the hilt of his blade, as ice crawled up his arms and his blood froze in his veins. 

Jin has fought to the brink of death, and right now he's nowhere close. There's no doubt in Ragna's mind that he could keep going, but... he doesn’t. 

He lowers Yukianesa and tilts his head to the side. “Nii-san,” he says, his voice raising to a childish tone. The concern in his voice is so sugary-sweet that it has to be false. “You look tired.”

“Brat,” Ragna grunts. He readjusts his grip on his bloodedge and tries to look threatening, but Jin is right. He’s tired. More than that, he’s _exhausted_. Every fibre of his being is screaming at him to just _stop,_ from his burning eyes to his wavering vision to the horrid ache of overexertion in his muscles.

Jin pouts at him. His battle stance relaxes - Ragna is relieved that they aren’t going to fight, but he can’t help the stab of annoyance that runs through him at the thought that Jin has discounted him as a threat.

“Then rest,” Jin insists, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

It’s not, though. Not at all. Not when nightmares claw his thoughts and a monster writhes in his ribcage. Not when the insides of his eyelids are painted with flames and blood and the maddened smiles of lunatic little brothers.

Something in his face must give away his thoughts because without prompting, Jin adds, “I’ll help you rest.”

God, he must really be ready to collapse if Jin’s offer sounds like warmth and comfort when Jin is anything but. 

Jin, always so terribly, sharply observant, notices the crack in his resolve. He smiles, sweet as a child. “It’s okay, Nii-san.”

After all these years, Ragna still doesn’t know how to say no to that smile. That innocent, guileless smile - even though it can’t be anything but a trick, a lie - erodes the last of his resistance. He is simply too tired to argue, too tired to listen to reason when instinct tells him this is his little brother of times past. 

That smile is the last thing he sees as he pitches face-first into the snow.

“Don’t worry, Nii-san. I’ll take care of you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy (?) birthday ragna

He wakes up to blond hair and green eyes and no recollection of ever falling unconscious in the first place. _Noel?_ he thinks, or maybe hopes. Because the alternative is Jin, and the idea of his little brother watching over him while the world pitches and shifts is not a pleasant one.

Life, as always, cares little for what he wants. The blurriness of his sight clears just enough for him to make out Jin’s sharper cheekbones, his darker eyes.

Something lights in them, a distant flicker like a single candle wavering in the dark. His lips move around the syllables of _Nii-san,_ but for some reason Ragna cannot hear him.

He tries to tell him this - or maybe to insult him, maybe to tell him to _get the fuck away, right now_ \- but instead his voice scrapes noiselessly against his throat, painful enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He feels something cold pressed to his lips, and something to his cheek, too, when he tries to turn away. His head is tilted back. Liquid slips down his throat while Jin’s fingers rub lightly along his esophagus to encourage him to swallow properly. 

This repeats several times. Whatever it is that Jin is making him drink is as thin as normal water, but the aftertaste it leaves in his mouth is faintly bitter. Poison, he thinks, or drugs, or worse. What Jin offers him can’t be anything less.

Ragna tries to swat his hands away. Tries to sit up.

He regrets it immediately. Everything _hurts,_ and he swears he stops seeing color for a moment as he crashes back down onto the bed with a gasp.

“What did you do to me!?” he hisses when he finds his voice. 

Jin blinks. A little frown tugs at his mouth, painfully sincere, but Jin is a master of manipulation so Ragna doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Helped you,” he insists. 

Ragna doesn’t know how to read Jin anymore, can’t find the tells of dishonesty he used to know by heart. It doesn’t matter, though. Even if Jin is telling the truth - which he isn’t, Ragna is certain, because the worry in Jin’s eyes is so normal and sane and _fake_ \- he’s painfully aware that Jin’s definition of “help” is drastically different from his own.

He laughs, low and unhappy, at just how pathetic he’s become.

Jin’s frown deepens. “Nii-san?” he asks, as if that word isn’t a knife to the heart. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Ragna wheezes between breaths, “Nothing at all.”

His brother says nothing, just shakes his head and stands. 

He is only gone for a moment, comes back with another cup in his hand. 

Though Ragna doesn’t want to let any of Jin’s offerings pass his lips if he can help it, the way those icy fingers dig into his cheeks force his mouth to open. Like before, Jin makes him swallow.

He feels Jin squeeze his hand as darkness overtakes him once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added this to the wrong fic at first rip me

He doesn’t know where he is or how long it’s been. Days, surely, but it all passes in a haze. The room has no windows, and a slight air of musky damp that leads him to believe they’re underground somewhere.

It could be anywhere. There is no shortage of ruins in the world - and he should know, he helped make some.

Wherever this is, he’s here, and Jin is too. His little brother hovers over him, his thin body radiating cold even though he is not touching him. Not yet, at least. Not this time.

Ragna has never been good at staying in one place for long, and years on the run haven’t helped him there. He twitches when Jin moves and backs up against the headboard when he approaches, spits insults in response to questions he doesn’t listen to because all he can hear is the voice they’re in.

His words bounce off Jin like they are nothing. His face is still and blank as a statue. Even so, Ragna can almost feel what he’s planning through the cold, calculating green of his eyes.

Almost.

Is it better to know and to dread, or to suffer in ignorance?

“What do you want?” Ragna growls.

What comes out of Jin’s mouth is nothing Ragna expected as he asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Huh?” is all he can think to say. 

Equally as unexpected is that Jin doesn’t taunt him for it, doesn’t call him stupid or an idiot. He simply repeats, “Are you hungry? Or thirsty?”

Ragna is, if he’s being honest, but far stronger than either of those urges is the determination to _not let Jin put anything else in his mouth, dammit!_

“No,” he says.

Jin nods like he’s said something more conversational. An odd, unhappy smile twists his lips. “That’s alright. Sometimes I don’t want to eat either.”

There is an understanding in his voice.

Ragna has no idea what he’s understanding.

Nothing makes sense, especially not when Jin reaches out so gently to brush his fingers against his face. They are cold as death; he doesn’t know what else he expected. He tilts his cheek into that touch and doesn’t know why.

“What did you do?” he asks again, though this time his voice is infinitely softer.

Jin shrugs. 

Part of him wants to yell, wants to ask, _“The hell do you mean, you don’t know!?”_ but Jin is still wearing that strange smiling expression. 

It makes him look older. Fragile in a way Ragna is unfamiliar with, because it is utterly unlike the crybaby little boy he grew up with, and just as far from the unapologetic murderer that boy turned into. 

“Does it matter?” Jin asks. 

Ragna can’t find the strength to argue with him. He closes his eyes and lets Jin’s voice wash over him like water, until even that fades to a low static.

These days, it seems that all he does is sleep.


End file.
